Where There is Smoke There is Fire
by alltheteainchina
Summary: Bira Geriah is an independent entertainer, doing risque lap dances and occasional bar singing. San Francisco hasn't even begun to recover from the crash of the USS Vengeance. She's traded death for a date with the devil who isn't even interested in her soul- just everything else she can give him. (AU where Khan escapes the Enterprise after the blood transfer.)
1. Chapter 1

Bira had just gotten out of her bar, the one she occasionally danced at, shrugging on the fur coat around her body. She was a very curvy woman, who constantly lied about her age. She made a living off of sporadic dancing at gentlemen clubs, stealing dance moves from throughout the ages and twisting them into a more modern interpretation. She felt little anymore, hiding past the naked shell eyes sought to own for their own imaginations. A small light burned a vintage recreated cigarette, with nicotine and a few other modern drugs mixed in. The strange blue smoke wafted about the round face under blonde and red hair resting in a bob. The short and glittery black dress stopped at her thighs, as a shoulder rested weight onto the side of the red brick wall. The sound of the waves not far away were comforting, though eyes, a mottled green and blue, reflected the beautiful city of San Francisco. What used to be a beautiful sight was now still smoking, so many nostalgic views ruined by the giant starship hull resting in the distance. The sound of a body landing next to hers, caused Bira to look over the grey fur. A man, stole her cigarette, in a black jacket, breathing in deeply with blue eyes that glowed with predatorial light. A vehicle passed, as the music pumped from out of the club doorway. The blue smoke curled about his face, as looks were passed between them.

"..Mind giving back my smoke?"

His dark hair looked auburn in the white modern lights that blinkered by on the main roadway feet away.

"I don't."

He took another drag and allowed the smoke to curl over his features.

Bira turned and looked at him a bit more, as the man stepped into the shadows, holding the cigarette like bait. She backed up, almost stumbling towards the entrance of the pub. One of the other girls, Amelia, who was a dedicated local, walked out on the arm of a man in a suit. She yanked the wig off of her head, spilling black hair in a tangled mess.

"Dammit Amelia! Give it back!"

"Yeah yeah Prima Donna. Go home already."

The tapping of high heels of the known escort disappeared down the steps to an awaiting car. Bira turned around, trying to smooth the wig, seeing the blue smoke still curling from the alleyway.

"Just keep it."

She turned, when an arm shot out, pulling her into him. The cigarette was flicked away, as lips smothered hers. Pale cream hands grabbed at his jacket, breathing in the smoke as it lingered, and alcohol she didn't register. A hand yanked the fur jacket down, exposing her neck, to which Bira yelped. Teeth worried the skin adjunct at shoulder and neck, bruising it amongst her whimpering cries. Another hand dipped into the bodice of the black dress, cold fingers tormenting each breast to peak. As soon as it began, it ended, the strapless front pulled back over, the coat wrapped comfortably about the harsh mark left behind.

"Would you care to accompany me for the night Miss Geriah. I assure you- I can pay handsomely."

Bira didn't let him finish, throwing her arms around his neck and drowning herself in his mouth. An arm wrapped about her waist, and escorted her towards the back, where her car was..

Bira halted.

"How did you know my car was back here?"

An immediate craving for his kiss had Bira move in her black stilettos back to the business and then back to the car. Consciousness decreased as the mental capacity of a teenager overtook the good common sense she was known for.

The man got into the car, programmed several different destination codes, as she lay in the back, confused.

"W-where are you t-taking me?"

"Far outside of the city, where your relatives have a great amount of land protected from Federation involvement and surveillance."

"W-who are you?"

"Auto-pilot."

"Understood." The computer in the silver hovercar responded with a chirp.

The man maneuvered into the back seat, sitting on the edge for a few seconds. The passing lights of the street lamps cast unique colored shadows on him. Bira had already pushed off the coat, growing rather hot- legs curled up on the side of the beige seat.

A warming hand brushed the black hair from her face, before leaning over and then pressing himself on top of her. Bira made small whimpering cries, as the glowing dashboard of her expensive car followed a huge list of directions and a program masking the programmer's identity. Two figures in the back became entangled in a mix of black and wet sounds.

It was hours later, as the car pulled over into a dusty driveway, dinging at its destination arrival, that the stranger's head raised up, looking up past the front seats at the four bedroom house belonging to Bira's family. Bira's hands clung to his jacket, face into his neck, as they lay sideways underneath the fur coat. She didn't remember much, except being wrapped up in the coat, the stars up above, and the quiet house, the stairs. The bed sagged, as arms wrapped themselves around her. And then once again, he was inside her and Bira cried for more as that strange tasting mouth consumed hers until final climax.

The morning hurt. Everything- all the lights, birds- everything hurt. Bira tried to sit up, only to find that the wrist was chained to the bed.

"W-What?"

"Good morning Bira Geriah. How are you feeling?"

The stranger sat at a wooden desk, typing rather fast, and sipping from her grandfather's mug.

"I- who- what happened last night?"

"..You have been kidnapped. Also- that cigarette was laced with drugs- I evaluated the rest of the pack and disposed of it immediately. Whoever you bought them from does not like you. Had you chosen to smoke any of them whole, you'd be dead."

Green and brown eyes closed, relaxing into the puffy mattress.

"Yes. I know who it was then."

"It worked in my favor. Although- I am unsure if you will like me once you remember what we've done over the past 12 hours."

He stood up, stretching, the muscles rippling underneath his shirt. Then it hit her, as Bira's eyes widened.

"Oh my god. You- you're John Harrison! You- you crashed the Vengeance and bombed the Archive!"

He didn't flinch, just stood there as her eyes raced over his profile, heart rate jumping. He wore the same black undershirt and a pair of tight fitting jeans.

"John. Harrison. I loathe that name."

John turned towards her, blue eyes narrowing.

"I am Khan. You will refer to me by my rightful name, lest you experience the same wrath Bira. Crying, begging, and any of that nonsense will get you placed into the pantry below the house. Do we have an understanding? Because I alone am capable of sustaining us here, and there is no one else to contact. I have dismantled your vehicle already. It is past noon. If you are hungry, I have a plate next to you with sustenance. Have your fill.."

Khan sat down next to her, pulling the covers off and away, fingering lovemarks all over her skin.

" Know this..Your life means little to me. Do not mistake my lust for your body as a promise that you will survive being in my presence."

Bira's eyes brimmed with tears as her other hand dared to push his away. Khan looked at her with raised eyebrows, amused, hair loose.

"I have heard you sing on rare occasions at the Temple Lounge. I expect you to entertain me tonight."

And he got up, opened the door, and the sounds of his foot falls faded away to the 1st floor. Bira thought about crying it all out, instead choosing a few good tears to fall before eating something.

Well. If life had to be this way- it never stayed the same for long and that- that was something she could fall back on.


	2. Chapter 2

Bira was allowed a shower, under the watchful eye of 'Khan'. He'd stood at the sliding glass of the modified shower with on foot at the ledge and the other on the linoleum floor, a hand on the glass, keeping the doors solidly together. His right hand the gripped the metal framework against the wall. No words were spoken, but the stare was possessive and greedy. In the line of work she came from, no matter how safe the world was now, this was the type of man you ran from- not to. The black strands on his forehead were loose, heavy black boots laced at his feet. The quiet, mingled with the hot water from the shower made the beat of her heart thunderous. Just lathering herself was difficult, until a sigh pushed through her thin heart shaped lips. If this was a game, she.. could play it.

Bira turned around, trying to picture herself at the Temple Lounge. The size of her breasts were a half size between C and D, waist a thin hourglass. Manicured nails, with french tips, cut through her hair, smoothing through the thin black, layered strands with shampoo. The soap lingered in bubbles about her skin. It took imagination, and skill, to work such a dull routine with a bit of spice, just enough to keep his attention and be submissive. He seemed the type. The moment the water was off, Khan put out his hand, as she wrapped the towel around her torso. With a right hand on his, and a warm left hand settled onto the curve of her waist, they exited the bathroom, over to the vanity where Bira dried her hair under analyzing supervision. Khan had a stack of clothing, salvaged from the back of the silver hovercar, waiting ontop of the brown thatched antique hamper nearby for her. A loose but smooth brick red skirt, hitting below the knee, and a modern black speckled-silver opened collar shirt, and a standard nude bra and panties were slowly put on. He was a terrorist. And just recalling the giant hull of the black starship was frightening. There was no real distinct emotion to be read from the man as of yet- besides the radiance of power and need. The idea of the screams from the Archives made things worse. But he was handsome, and Bira's comb worked in mousse from the makeup bag he brought in. Thoughts strayed to the vehicle he claimed no longer worked, to the reasons for her even being here. What use was she to Khan?  
>"You have questions."<br>A mouth quirked up weakly, setting the old comb back in its tray.  
>"Why is it you chose me? I can guess I was singled out due to this exclusive inheritance. And.. you could have let me die with those tainted cigs. I don't recall you paying up on that offer earlier either- what were you going on about that would interest me?"<br>Brave speckled green and brown eyes gazed at his from the mirror, as his tight figure pushed off of the door frame, heading behind her. Warm hands sent every nerve into high alert. Khan bent down and gently kneaded her shoulders.  
>"A man needs a beautiful woman to entertain him. I am aware of much more than you could fathom Bira.. As for payment-"<br>Blue eyes narrowed with a cold Bira felt the Arctic could not match.  
>"I give you the chance to stay alive for a far greater purpose and a change from a rather.. tedious existence."<br>Bira cried out at the pinch along the curve of her shoulders. Almond eyes poured tears, placing hands straight into her lap. A hand gently tipped her face up, the man's back straight in its black shirt, outlining every curve of muscle. Silence sat heavy, like weighted mist, almost suffocating as the two made visual connection.  
>"..I believe you are familiar with S&amp;M are you not?"<br>"..Barely. Its not anything I'm a huge follower of.. anymore."  
>The chair whirled around, and Bira found her back bent over the small linoleum white counter.<p>

Bira turned her face slightly, feeling trapped.  
>Had she been unaware of who he was, the 34 year old would have been more than happy to please him along the lines he insinuated. He was 6 ft tall, with cheek bones and a nose that would make many women melt for him. The fire in Irish eyes were defiant, even as the heat blossomed between her legs, the blush rose to round cheeks, as the feel of those fingers lingered in her memory.<p>

His hands were warm- hot, deftly lowering the zipper on the back of the sparkling black mini-dress, casting it down at the back of the seat. Memory did not recall what happen to the panties she wore, the expensive footwear. Her lips drank his like water, and the stranger had complied with great passion overcoming the lonely desperation and drugged mind resting in his arms. Bira could remember stretching, and the unexpected butterfly touches that had her back arching under him, turning into dipping fingering, as a patient hand rested digits softly against her mouth. She'd suckled them until everything blurred under cries that centered on her pleasure alone. It felt like hours and seconds before the house came into view.

"I would think that in the limited line of your work blushing would have long been discarded."  
>He wanted her to answer. Bira cleared her throat subconsciously.<br>"I'm still a person, not a thing. Oh!"  
>Bira's face went into shock, the moment ears stopped ringing and the sting of the spank settled in. Bira did what she'd do normally, even though her back ached and sang as he dominated her over the counter. A leg kicked his shin- and she instantly regretted it. What was he made of? Rock?<br>Khan lifted up an eyebrow, not flinching.  
>"Nothing you do can hurt me Bira."<br>Bira stared into his eyes, which glittered like diamonds.  
>He smiled- barely.<br>Two fingers grabbed her chin, and he kissed her lips in a peck.  
>"I will punish you severely the next time you disobey me.. and forgiveness is not something I do.."<p>

She was more than ready for him, the feel of him parting her, sliding until their hips meshed- The grip on the headboard, the wooden bed creaking as he growled above her, eyes barely standing out in the dark.  
>"So beautiful Bira.."<br>Baritone sweet sting and the cries in reply as his hips jolted into her, asking her dirty things and trailing warm hands along her cold shoulders.

Bira sat still, shaking, staring at his feet, having slid back down onto the chair. She slowly returned to reality.  
>"What is it you want with me Khan. I don't know why you didn't just take a drive out here alone- I wouldn't have set foot here at all. Is sex the only reason for keeping me here?"<br>The man was silent, before leaning down on a crooked elbow. The breathing that lifted his chest was light, prepared. Hers- not so much. Everytime he came near it was like placing a razor at her throat and a thumb on her heart.  
>"I feel no great need to explain myself.. to anyone- let alone you. There is no higher command than my own. If you cannot realize this, I will lock you up in the cellar and treat you as a prisoner of war, where your use will decay along with your impudent body. Or my dearest Bira.."<br>Touches along her jawline softly encompassed her throat in a gentle hold, voice vibrating into her.  
>"I can pleasure you as you submit your will to me, and I am a good Master to those who serve me. It is simple. Live in subjugation to your Superior in all things, or suffer for your incompetence at such realization."<br>Lonely. Bira could sum up the undertones as the threat ended with promise coming from the man who gently squeezed her throat. She'd seen stone-faced, cold and weary patrons before.  
>"Who.. hurt you?"<br>It was a quiet request. Neither of them moved for a few minutes, each second adrenaline increased, afraid of the consequence.  
>"I have lost everything. But now- I will have you and all of your resources to procure vengeance for my people."<br>"Your- people?"  
>The small batch of carpeting cushioned the fall of her body, shoved roughly off of the chair.<br>"Do not compare the loss of your family to mine at any time- do we have an understanding?"  
>Bira winced as Khan raised his voice. He.. knew about her family. All the strings made her feel like a puppet at his command. He was more and more dangerous by the second. Far too clever for an erotic entertainer to keep up with.<br>The floor protested, old but sturdy under the carpeting, as Khan shifted. He went to his knees, violently yanking her scared body flush against him, sucking hard at her neck, nipping at her ear. Soft hands rested on tense biceps as he pushed her into the floor. It hurt but drew all attention to the borderline pleasure, blood rising to the surface, growls into her ear. She whimpered at the admonishment of his mouth, persistent, teeth sharp, as she submitted to his whims.  
>A hand pushed aside the fabric of the loose, red circle skirt to smooth up between her thighs.<br>A rumbling groan trembled her entire body. The recollections from earlier were fuzzy- though the sex had been gentle but possessive. She was afraid, but unbelievably wet as a large hand spread the liquid heat appreciatively.  
>She found herself wanting this- with a stranger, a fugitive, and technically a man who saved her life but also held it over a tentative cliff. A warm hand turned to the side, sliding in to cup the front of her sex and curl into it. Sharp bites made her cry out, drawing blood.<br>"Turn over onto your hands and knees."  
>Bira did so, place a forehead onto the stale gray carpet. Her ass was in the air, the cool of it made worse as panties were pulled down by his perfect teeth. Bira shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as the moans began. Hot mouth, tongue thick but soft like silk, explored every fold, curling about her clitoris, before digging into her sex and lapping at the taste of her. Suddenly her wrists were yanked towards him, held painfully tight, pushing her chin straight out to stare down the short hallway. Bira widened her eyes as the pad of his tongue created a friction that began to quickly build her to climax, then suckling and flicking at her arousal. Khan paused, speaking hotly against her sex, and her body shivered as the wet dripped down her thighs.. like the sarcasm in his voice commanding and edged.<br>"Sing for me Bira. Sing your way to heaven for me.."  
>She screamed, tongue driving her to the point of loud wailing. At some unknown point the woman slacked onto the floor, hair matted to her forehead, panting and out of focus. Sore wrists and arms were by her sides. How many times, she wondered as Khan pulled his face from her, had he crept her to heights only to to tease her back up to them? Endorphins rippled over in waves of release along her skin.. a swipe of his tongue leaving every nerve sensitive and bare. Bira blinked and tried to trap the keen in her throat as teeth pulled her panties back up, before a hard smack hit her ass cheeks.<br>"I will have you later. For now, I need you downstairs for.. other needs.."


	3. Chapter 3

**"****What I think is not necessarily, what I feel and what I feel is not necessarily, what I think." -Santosh Kalwar**

Days passed into weeks, weeks into months. Bira was on a strict exercise regimen and diet, and singing wasn't something she occasionally enjoyed anymore. Khan had driven her out to a specific range, allowing her to drop a line to a few people, claiming to be under voice training, as well as to take care of other needs. Khan couldn't be seen in the early morning light, but she knew he was there, as she stood in her sweats and took supplies from a carrier. The cold of the early spring caused frayed ends of ebony hair to tickle her face. The moment her tennis hit past the tracking range, he was right there, he always was, looking down at her before taking the packages off the hover-pulley.

At least twice, she'd found herself in the cellar, crying. Once was because she made the choice herself. There was little space away from him and that was the way to get it. The other.. well.. Bira had tried to connect a bit more with him, which lost his temper. He didn't hurt her, though the doors almost closed on her face. And when she'd taken his hand out, only a kiss on the side of her mouth was his reply, before they re-entered the womb of his vengeance.

Khan was constantly going over PADDs and handwriting notes on her familial stationary, which mattered little to her. At least, it didn't at first. Her grandparents were kind but strict people. She- never thought much of them until the 2nd week of living at their house. The gradual smell of pine, and the laughter of children, playing about the fireplace during Christmas time became hard to ignore. Often she found herself petting the side of the huge hearth, the dark wood of heritage, staring into the mouth of seeping memories. Khan watched her, calling her over to fetch food or a specific tool box- obviously not from Grandpa's collection. He seemed to detest sentiment of any kind.

The man was quiet, and an absolute monster. He broke several things, and his sexual appetite bordered obsessive. If breaking ancient china wasn't working, or kicking chairs, his glare settled onto her- which set off primal instinct to flee from the vicinity. Bira would often run through the house, each time for sure he'd kill her. Every time they'd wrestled to the floor, freezing as his hands removed any fabric hindrance from him taking her from behind. It was always long, and slow, accentuated with low restrained grunts. She loved it- the way his fingers would clench into hers, silent as he came..

For now, Bira was content with a few things. A shelter, no great physical violence, and some contact with the outside world. The singing lessons were grueling, and she'd lost some of the curves she once prized. She'd foolishly made a comment on it, which got her extra work around the house, including chopping firewood. He'd stood there, hair a mess, after bringing a few good sized trunks from behind the house. A large animal seemed to have been drug by the back shed, but she was unsure what it was. An early spring coat covered her, while he stood in a black wife-beater. The 8 pound axe clunked into the wood. A pair of safety goggles rested on her face, smearing the makeup she insisted on. In fact, it was the last bit of it.. It was sweaty, the whole process. Finally Bira went and sat down on one of the trunks, folding her arms and sulking like a child.

"I'm not doing anymore of this Khan."

"You'll do what I tell you to Bira Geriah. Get up and finish."

"You know what? I think I'll go downstairs into that cellar and ROT!"

Bira stood up, and carefully put the goggles into her pocket. These were old. The gesture was not lost on her- or on Khan, who narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not some superhuman, like you."

Brown speckled green eyes surveyed his muscular body. It was hard not to be distracted, especially since stirring violence ended one of two ways usually. Today, she was pushing it, and she wouldn't play. She was serious and done. Khan turned, giving his back to her, speaking over his shoulder.

"..Then go down into the cellar and become weak. Join the ghosts of your past."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me MISS Geriah."

The ground crunched under his boots as he walked around the stump, staring at the axe murderously focused on the sharp tool, hand set upon the handle.

"..Do you miss dancing for them?"

Bira was caught off guard, feeling something she'd dulled down for years. It flooded her chest and confused her. Indignant at the involuntary response, she shook her head to try and clear away the softness and sensitivity she regarded as a poison flowing through her more and more as of late.

"I'm a good dancer. I get paid well. There's nothing wrong with my profession."

Sore arms crossed over each other.

Khan's chest rumbled in deep and dark amusement, before his face dropped into a dead glower with vibrant arctic eyes in her direction.

"Yes, a poor substitute for the attention you never had."

She did not miss the mocking expression, the rude gesture that merged with the ringing of his voice across the backyard. It felt like something stabbed her through the chest.

"Is that all you are worth? To be an attention deficit whore? Is that what you want Bira Geriah? Or do you want to start to become something more..? ..I expect you to make your decision now. I have little patience for this."

How was it- that he could bring up her family but it wasn't right for her to do the same? Heat stirred in her chest and over her skin. The ground bounced pebbles around the stomping gait of her return. Irish temper flared- and she was so good at hiding it too. Before anything came out of her mouth, Khan turned away, glaring at her as he did so.

"You will finish the entire trunk before nightfall. I will then have you in the hot tub this evening, and you will beg me to forgive you after your singing lessons."

Bira's mouth dropped open.

"..Do not think your body will be unmarked for your insubordination this evening. Think upon what I have said, Bira Geriah. I have no use for an inferior little girl. Prove to me that you are, indeed, a woman worth my time."

Bira was exhausted, covered with a few splinters she'd not been able to get out yet, and she knew that within two or three days the pain of all the exercise would catch up like that chip that smacked into her shin earlier. As she prepped the hot tub, her mind brought up the pictures of Khan's sweating body, having taken full care of the carcass, even carving a few needles and whatever else from the bones, pulling off tendons, looking to recycle more than she wanted to know. It wasn't even second nature to him. Bira had taken a small break in awe, watching this man who barely broke out in a sweat, work within watching distance. The more she observed him, it seemed like he was born to destroy, utilizing what remained, creating order from the very chaos he created..

The singing lessons were long, and a willow stick had left a ladder of stripes up her calf.

"Korean discipline."

His husky voice had called it.

Bira took a handful of Himalayan salts, something Grams used to soak in, that she'd brought up from the cellar. If it wasn't for him, it'd definitely be for her. Grams used to talk about how the aches in her muscles, could be eased with a good handful of it- and today a memory could be counted as useful to a purpose in the present. As the rose and white gradient chunks of salt dropped into the water, the wooden door cracked open and Khan stepped in to the oak enclosement. He stood rather regal, eyeing her. The solar panels, more modern, allowed quite a bit of electricity and were scattered about the property. That was the only way any of this was possible, next to the giant water pressure towers.

"5 minutes more, Khan."

"I see you have Himalyan salt. Do not use the old chemicals any longer. It is not good to mix the two."

"A-as you wish."

Bira sat exhausted on the bench, as the door banged shut. Khan took off his clothes, as she began to doze off.

"Bira."

Black hair stuck to her face, sweating into the jacket now.

"Take off your clothes before you pass out from the heat."

It hurt, and the pants as they came down stuck to a patch of dried blood. The man arose from the waters, like a chiseled god, as he helped carefully remove it.

"Depending on the concentration that you've used, the water will either burn, or help alieve the inflammation. Come."

She was smelly and it was a common thing now. Hair wasn't the gorgeous layer that could do anything- now it just went EVERYWHERE and hindered her constantly. The hot water burned, but within seconds it started to get better, especially on the cut. Thankfully, Bira put the right amount into the water, just like Grams did. The woman took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Bira.."

Blue eyes looked over the bruising, especially at her leg.

"You had a piece of wood rebound on your shin I see.."

His hands helped lower her into the middle of the red ceramic tub, carefully stretching her out and running hands over every part of her body. She groaned, confused and delirious. So much focus, concern played about his brows, for a few minutes. And then, it was gone. He sat back, doing the same to himself. She was unsure of how many minutes passed by..

"You'll need to drink from the water jug now, to keep the toxins level in your system from the massage."

Bira slowly got up and drank some of the water, predicting that was probably the first and last of its kindness to be shown to her that evening. The steaming water caressed her upper thighs, the cool and soothing liquid contrasting down a parched throat. She sighed deeply. Immediately, skin touched her from behind, water dripping onto her back from above.

"..Hold still.."

Fingers interlaced with hers, as she cried out, feeling the cool of the air and the heat of him entering her. How could he still want her after- no. Bira rested her forehead onto their hands at the edge of the wooden frame. Moans and grunts intermixed, the sound of liquid connections slapping into the air until her final keen. This was about release- his pleasure. She didn't matter to him or anyone. Hands held her perfectly still, as he thrust a few more times, two forced guttural groans surrounding them as he came. As much as Bira tried to feel sorry for herself and get lost back into that world- his name became voiced like a cat's mewl.

"Khan.."

He stayed inside of her, moaning in response, and gripping her body in fleeting lust. Rock arms drew them to sit in the bubbling brine, clutching her close to him across and into his muscular chest. For once, Khan allowed the silent tears as her round face and body rested across his arms. His lip snarled, fixed forwards as if something haunted him.

"Your punishment is the loss of your precious makeup."

She didn't care. Fighting him was useless. But it was her nature to do so.

Bira Geriah. Without makeup. She hated to see her face in the mirror for long without it and had donned the mask of Eros for so long it could not be given an end. But now- now here she was. Every blotch and wrinkle, all the flaws and signs of tired age. It was the ghost of a flawed past and the destruction of entertainment's priceless, ageless beauty. The disdain connected Khan and Bira together, whatever it was and she hated him for it. For the next week she sulked bitterly, in the cellar pining over the loss in the few minutes before taking the Himalayan salt back up to the spa. Having little time to herself was beginning to really wear on her. That whole week Khan said nothing, and the back of calves stung with expert marks when she displeased him. Bira cautioned herself not to mock him. Their clothes were beginning to take damage with all the hard work done about the place. Not once did he touch her with interest for the next 7 days.

A messy bun rested at the back of her neck most of the time, and her arms were developing slightly. The voice she was once proud of could not compare to the way she could manipulate the range of her vocal chords now. Opera, had streamed over the speakers, and she had managed to keep up with the part perfectly.

Excitement, even now, as she grabbed and hauled a pail of water for the fire pit tonight- burned in her veins once more. It was smothering, like the flames she doused with so much hissing. The smothering was him watching with hawk like eyes, stormed and ready. But the hope she found was like the greatest high. Higher than the drugs she took on rare occasions. Bira missed them, when time allowed it.

Aside from the great hate of not having cosmetics to hide under, the woman found herself prowling and seeking to appease her captor. The man might as well have been a peacock with the strength of a bear and the grace of a butterfly. Khan was only too happy to accept- proud and dangerous weapon that he was. At times, whether outside at the fire pit she now gazed on, or the fireplace inside, his baritone voice would soothe and spin tales of conquest. A little background made her realize how true- though ignorant to its true meaning at the time- calling him a 'superman' really was. The moon hung low in the sky, veiled behind the whisping smoke that curled like fish hooks, blotting out the few stars those clouds did not hide.


End file.
